The Case of the Octopus
by Rousdower
Summary: A woman has called Sherlock to tell him that her octopus is missing. It turns out to be something just a tad more sinister... and all John wants to do is finish reading his article on groundhog rehabilitation.


**Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock. Don't get me wrong! I don't own the 1800's Sherlock either… We all know who they belong to…**

**_Italic sentences are John's thoughts… though you probably would have guessed that..._**

"Sherlock."

"John."

"May I ask, _why_ there is a plate of blood and chocolate in the microwave?" John asked calmly.

"No, John, you may not," Sherlock said in a bored voice as he looked at something on John's computer.

"I thought I changed my password…" John said sadly, when he saw what Sherlock was doing. He was actually certain that he had, but he was also certain, that Sherlock had discovered what it was. Again. And probably quite easily.

"You did. But I managed to discover what it was on the third try." There, that only confirmed John's suspicions. He sighed and mournfully looked back into the microwave, "You do know that this was my chocolate you used, right?"

"Obviously. If it was mine, I wouldn't have used it."

_Figures,_ John though miserably.

Suddenly, Sherlock stood up and started pacing. John briefly closed his eyes, he knew that the pacing meant one of two things. Either Sherlock was inwardly debating something… or… the more dreaded possibility and unfortunately the more likely one, since John knew that Sherlock was not on a case… he was bored.

_Wait for it_, John thought, _Wait for it… Five, four, three, two, one…_

"John, I'm bored."

John allowed himself a triumphant smirk. Sherlock could be so predictable at times.

"_John,_" Sherlock said, _More like whined…_ John sat in his chair and picked up a newspaper, effectively tuning out Sherlock's grousing. After about ten minutes, he noticed that Sherlock had realized John was a lost cause and had taken to skulking on the couch, occasionally muttering sullenly to himself.

Sherlock's phone began ringing and owner of said phone immediately leapt up and across the room, answering it on the fourth ring, "Sherlock Holmes."

An expression of pure delight crossed Sherlock's face before he said, "Brilliant! I'll take it," and hung up without so much as a goodbye. He waltzed across the room and put on his coat and scarf, saying, "Come, John! We have an octopus to locate!"

John scowled, he was _not_ Sherlock's dog. He really didn't like how Sherlock summoned him like one… wait a minute… he could have sworn Sherlock had said something about finding an…_ octopus?_ An expression of confusion settled onto his features and he tilted his head slightly.

"Do _hurry up_, John. We don't have all day!" Sherlock said from the doorway. John sighed and slowly folded his newspaper back up, he supposed he would have to finish that article on groundhog rehabilitation on a later date…

**At the Scene of the Crime…**

Sherlock was observing the tank that had housed the missing octopus very closely. All John could see, was that it was very empty. He got the chance to voice that thought, mere minutes later.

"What are your thought, John?"

"It's empty," John stated, matter-of-factly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, "And here I was thinking that you might only be a half an idiot."

John shook his head and said, "Go on. I know you're dying to tell us where it is, or whatever."

The teary owner of the octopus, whose name, she had tearfully told them, was Eggburt, said in a quivery voice, "Yes, Mr. Holmes, please tell me where my dear Eggburt has gone."

Sherlock started without hesitation, "Well, going by the smell, I would say it had been dead for two or three hours before it was removed." John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's lack of sensitivity, but of course, the detective continued, blissfully unaware of his mistake, "And these faint marks here are probably dried slime or whatever it is that is on octopi, left over from being dragged out by an inexperienced person, someone who has little to no experience in handling these creatures. As there are no water drips, I would say that the person had a container into which he placed the deceased upon removal from it's habitat. If my hypothesis is correct," Sherlock dipped his finger in the water and licked it, only to promptly spit it back out, "Mrs. Yartish, your octopus has been murdered."

John rubbed his face and cast an apologetic look to the poor sobbing woman, before glaring at Sherlock and saying, "Who could _possibly _want to murder an octopus, Sherlock?"

Sherlock cast him a look of disdain, before he said, "Her husband, obviously."

The woman's sobs ceased, "Mark? Why would Mark want to kill Eggburt?" she sniffed.

Sherlock scoffed, "He was jealous. You doted so much on this octopus, it's as if he isn't there. You are obviously more distraught over your pet's death than you would be over your husband's. he thought that he'd fix the problem and poured a rather large amount of sionide into the tank, the octopus ingested it and _Mark_ disposed of the body. I'm sure if you wanted, you would find the corpse somewhere in the Thames. As I said, obvious." With that, Sherlock turned on his heel and strode out the door.

John went over to the woman and apologized for Sherlock, _God knows the man would never do it himself. He probably isn't even sorry…_

**Back at Baker Street…**

_Five, four, three, two, one…_

"John. I'm bored."

John, again, blatantly ignored Sherlock as he continued reading his article on groundhog rehabilitation, with one stray though drifting through his head…

_Here we go again..._

**A/N: *waves nervously* Hi…**

**Well… this is my first Sherlock fic… I have now entered the realm of Sherlock fanfiction… *gulps* Did anyone like it? I know it was kind of ridiculous, but weird humor is my specialty. I don't know if sionide would really kill an octopus and octopi _is _ a real word. It is quite simply octopus pluralized. i don't think pluralized is a real word though...**

**I want to tell you that I will except Sherlock prompts, but there are a few things;**

**1) I DO NOT WRITE SLASH. NEVER HAD. NEVER WILL. DON'T ASK ME TOO.**

**2) I do ship Sherlolly… if anyone is interested…**

**3) I will gladly accept bizarre prompts. Anything bizarre, really.**

**And that's about it. I would really like to know thoughts on this little thing here… I'm kinda nervous. I'm worried that Sherlock is OOC? John? *gulps* I just… let me know? Could you? Would you? **

**Gosh, I probably sound like some kind of desperate weirdo… but I'm quite lovable really…**

**Rousdower out *smiles nervously***


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